


Six

by ladynox



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: M/M, Zombies, alex is a steel trap of emotions, michael also thinks he's hilarious, michael's abandonment issues are on parade in this, since it's a last of us au, though no where near as depressing i promise, warning for brief instance of sexist language
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:28:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26093395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladynox/pseuds/ladynox
Summary: Michael had known it was stupid to go through Albuquerque. Big cities were always full of Infected, which are bad sure, but also people which are the absolute worst. Michael would take a raving horde of zombies hungry for human flesh over living and breathing people any day. But cutting through Albuquerque was the fastest path to Roswell. Michael didn’t want to go around. He’d been separated from his siblings long enough.
Relationships: Michael Guerin/Alex Manes
Comments: 8
Kudos: 27





	Six

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: this fic is set in the universe of The Last of Us. Just using it as a backdrop/sandbox since the zombie designs are cool. So no spoilers for the games. 
> 
> As always, lots of love to my wonderful beta beautifulcheat.

Michael had known it was stupid to go through Albuquerque. Big cities were always full of Infected, which are bad sure, but also people which are the absolute worst. Michael would take a raving horde of zombies hungry for human flesh over living and breathing people any day. But cutting through Albuquerque was the fastest path to Roswell. Michael didn’t want to go around. He’d been separated from his siblings long enough. And anyway, he had reasoned with himself, this wasn’t the first time he’d had to cross through a territory infested by psychos with a military fetish or cultists or whatever so _whatever_. It wasn’t like he couldn’t take care of himself.

How’d that old saying go again? Those who are too cocky get the dick.

Not even two hours into the city someone had knocked him the fuck out. They’d seemingly come out of nowhere too. It was fucking embarrassing. 

That’s how Michael woke up with a splitting headache so bad that the light from the noonday sun was intolerable. Michael kept his eyes closed and paid attention with his other senses. He was in a car. No, a truck. He was in the tailgate of a truck, moving at a leisurely pace. His hands were cuffed behind his back, and he could hear two people talking to each other.

And there was another person next to him. They hadn’t said a word but there was a _presence_. Like something coiled and ready to strike.

Michael tried opening his eyes again. It was easier this time. A couple blinks and he could finally see.

There was one guy right across from him. Michael’d seen the type before. Fake commando. Dangerous only because he was a bozo with a bloated sense of self-importance and a gun. He was dressed in a mismatched combo of military gear and other stuff he probably scrounged up in a sporting good’s store. He had a hunting knife and a handgun. Nothing else that Michael could see. The guy was so green he was basically a vegetable.

The cucumber was talking through the broken window to the driver -- another man, dressed about the same way as his friend as far as Michael could tell. They were laughing, talking about taking a short cut which Michael immediately had a bad feeling about. The driver seemed just as shiny and new as the guard.

“I don’t think they’ve cleaned out this area yet.”

“We’re in a truck, Andy. Don’t be such a pussy.”

These two got the drop on him? No way. It couldn’t be. It was too fucking shameful to be true. 

Now was not the time to berate himself though. Michael glanced over at the person next to him. 

It was another man, hands also cuffed behind his back. But unlike their so-called guard, this man looked capable. Michael could tell by the set of his shoulders and back, straight but relaxed in a way that belied how quickly he’d move when the time was right. Eyes sharp. Taking in everything.

He was also hot. Really hot. Tanned, with brown hair that looked silky to the touch. He had a week’s worth of scruff darkening a perfect jawline and cheekbones that Michael would gladly cut himself against. The cutest little nose Michael has ever seen too. And lips that were full and kissable, even though they were currently twisted in a scowl as he glared at Michael. 

Ok. Fair. Michael had been staring. Possibly— _definitely_ —drooling when he should be figuring out how to get away from Bozo and Company who, if he remembered correctly from the intel he got a while back, were taking them to some kind of arena to fight Infected to the death for the entertainment of other psychos. Or wait? Was that happening in Nevada? Yeah the arena was in Nevada, then these guys were the slaves right? It’s hard to keep up with the depravity of humanity sometimes.

Michael started to focus his powers on unlocking his cuffs, figuring that he’d work out his next move when it came time to.

The locking mechanism gave just as the truck started to speed up. The cabbage guarding them turned his _entire_ back to them. What the fuck— _oh_

Infected.

They were streaming out of buildings at the sound of the engine. And while Michael is mentally cursing himself for getting captured, his fellow prisoner decided this was the perfect opportunity to act. The situation was dire but Michael could not help but be impressed by how flexible this guy was. He just squirmed his cuffed hands around to the front, and lightning quick, he was on his feet and throwing his arms around the guard’s neck. There was a brief yell, a struggle, then a sharp crack and the guard stopped struggling.

“Andy!” Screamed the driver, fumbling for something. Assuming it was a gun, Michael shook off his own cuffs and scrambled for the knife strapped to the dead guard’s thigh before he shoved it into the driver’s neck, once. Twice. Blood was warm on his hands, and the man gurgled as the life ebbed from him. Michael hated this. No matter how many times it happened, it never got any better. The dead man slumped forward, his heavy body hitting the car horn, which blared loudly. Michael shoved him off it. They didn’t need any more Infected joining the chase.

“Maybe you shouldn’t have killed him yet.” Tall, grumpy and handsome said in a very calm tone considering how fucked they seemed to be. The truck was starting to wobble.

“I got it!” Michael yelled, stretching his hand towards the wheel, and letting his power wrap around it, steadying the car.

Feeling extra vulnerable now, Michael shifted his attention back to gauge the guy’s reaction once the truck was steady. It was hard to read his expression. Surprised? Disturbed? Curious? Probably all of the above honestly. But in the end, he rolled with it and used the guard’s handgun to headshot any Infected that got too close.

He glanced back at Michael after taking out a second Runner and said blandly, “Must go faster.”

“Going as fast as I can.” It came out as a laugh though.

Handsome, funny and a sharpshooter. Michael may live through this encounter but he was definitely not going to survive it.

* * *

It was probably five minutes of frantic driving before Michael was able to lose the Infected. But _man_ did it feel longer. Sure the adrenaline helped but the focus needed to keep the truck going was exhausting. You try making sure the truck you’re driving at one hundred miles an hour with just your _brain_ over broken and dilapidated roads doesn’t go skidding off the road with every frantic turn you make. It was a wonder Michael didn’t throw up at any point during that nightmare of a chase scene.

But Michael also acknowledged that without the sharpshooting Adonis, things would have been way worse. Not one of those Infected, not even those ridiculous 28 Days Later speed running types, had gotten close to the truck. The guy must have been military. No backwater redneck with a gun fetish could shoot like _that_.

Michael parked in an alleyway that looked empty of Infected but most importantly, was also empty of healthy people. He watched the guy dig out the keys for his cuffs from the dead guard’s pocket and use his teeth to get himself free. Hot.

Really. Really hot.

Michael was staring again. He knew this because Private Hot Stuff was staring back at him with one perfect eyebrow arched. There was amusement in those liquid brown eyes which Michael gladly took over a gun pointed at his head. That happened the last two times he was forced to use his powers to save the day. Ungrateful bastards.

“Care to explain?” He asked. And wow, his voice. Just wow.

“Alien. Take me to your leader.” Michael grinned, unable to help it. Levity was his armor in a stressful situation. Always had been. Always would be. “Name’s Michael. You are?”

Those gorgeous eyes ran up and down his body and Michael was sure he imagined (hoped for) the heat he felt from that simple act. This guy was just trying to gauge if Michael was fucking with him. Which, fair. But counterpoint, the dead had risen, so were aliens really that fucking strange?

“Alex.”

Michael couldn’t tell if Alex believed him or not. In the grand scheme of things, it probably didn’t matter.

“Nice to meet you Alex.” Michael smiled. “Though I wish the circumstances were better.” Yeah so he flirted. Honestly was it that much of a fucking surprise?

Alex rolled his eyes but Michael caught a tiny smile before Alex turned towards the cab of the truck. Ok but like that was definitely not a no. Michael knows what a no looks like and that smile was a not a no.

Alex yanked a backpack out from the cab of the truck. It was Michael’s. And even though one second ago he’d have gladly sucked this guy off given half a chance, seeing Alex with his pack made Michael tense, ready to fight for his meager belongings. But Alex made no move to keep it, didn’t even try to look inside. He just threw it in Michael’s direction, likely picking up on Michael’s agitation, and went back to rummaging inside the cab. Michael caught it with a bit of power, pulled it close to his chest. Just holding it, relieved, before opening it up and checking that everything was still in there. Food, two pistols, a box of ammo, his notebook and a small piece of alien tech he was able to take with him before the world went to shit.

“This yours too?” Alex was throwing a black cowboy hat at him. Michael caught it easily, glad that the idiot commandos had decided to stow it with his pack. That hat had been through a lot with him.

“Where’re you headed?” Alex asked. When Michael looked back at him, Alex had a backpack by his legs and a heavy-duty hunting rifle in his hands. By the way he handled the rifle, it clearly belonged to him. Michael watched those beautiful hands smooth down the stock and felt short of breath.

“Southeast,” Michael finally got out when Alex raised his eyes to him, expectantly. “To Roswell.”

Alex looked surprised for a moment before his expression changed to something Michael couldn’t quite read. Considering, maybe? He couldn’t possibly be glad…

“Know how to use this?” Alex asked, walking towards Michael with a semi-automatic rifle in hand. Must have been in the cab.

“Um. No. I was a graduate student before the world went to shit.”

“Ok I’ll show you how to use it,” Alex said, holding the rifle out until Michael finally took it.

“Uh…?” There Michael was putting that 250 IQ to work again.

Alex laughed and sure Michael didn’t appreciate being laughed at but Alex had a pretty laugh. So maybe it was a trade Michael was willing to make.

“I’m heading to Roswell too,” Alex said by way of explanation. “Maybe we can travel together? Figure having a super powered cowboy alien watching my six will up my chances of survival.”

“Oh…” Michael said and there was something so hopeful in Alex’s eyes that Michael could do nothing more than nod. “Yeah. Of course. I mean, you’re an amazing shot. Between the two of us, there’s nothing we can’t do!”

“You’re laying it on a little thick.” Alex smirked. “An OK would have sufficed.”

* * *

“In a pod?” Alex echoed, glancing back at Michael to make sure he wasn’t being fucked with. Michael wondered exacty what part of alien made Alex think that his life would make any fucking sense. 

“Yeah,” Michael confirmed. “For fifty years.” 

They were walking down back alleyways, trying to avoid any patrols. Sure, Albuquerque was a big city. Sure, it was unlikely that the slavers had spread out everywhere. But they had no idea exactly where their territory started and ended, so it was smart to be careful. Avoid main roads (Alex had a map), keep a sharp eye out for people that might be creeping in windows or in shadows, instead of Alex’s really nice ass. 

“What did it look like?” Alex asked. He was walking a little ahead of Michael, hunting rifle comfortably slung over one shoulder. Alex moved like he was on a runway in Milan and not a rundown, mostly abandoned city in the aftermath of an apocalypse. 

It was distracting as hell. 

“Shiny,” Michael said, trying to bring up his memories of the pods. It’d been so damn long since he’s seen them last. “Translucent. Vaguely egg shaped.”  
  
“ _So_ ,” Alex said, drawing out the ‘o’ as he glanced back at Michael briefly. He looked like he wanted to laugh but wasn’t entirely sure if he could. “You incubated for 50 years in some cave outside of Roswell, New Mexico. That’s what you’re telling me?”  
  
“I donno if we were incubating,” Michael said blandly, unimpressed with the implication. “So much as in a form of stasis.”  
  
Alex, who clearly noted his disapproval, ignored it. “And then one day you just hatched?”  
  
“I’m not a bird.”  
  
“Are you sure?” Alex’s eyes roved over his body. Not in a sexy way either. One eye had narrowed comically and his cute little nose was scrunched up as he inspected Michael. It was like he was looking for feathers.  
  
“I look completely human, Alex!” Michael found himself laughing.  
  
“Completely?” Alex was grinning at him. A twinkle in his eye that was simultaneously infuriating and endearing. 

This bitch. 

You know what… two can play this game. 

Michael stopped in the middle of the side road. He threw a look of uncertainty at Alex, who had stopped as well to look at him, one hand on his hip. Expectant.  
  
“I mean there’s one thing that is extraordinary…” Michael said and Alex cocked his head to the side, curiously. It was adorable. Michael waited a second, as if deliberating, which had the desired effect lowering Alex’s guard just enough for “my dick.”

You could hear a pin drop in the silence that statement brought forth.  
  
“Your dick is extraordinary?” Alex’s tone was bland.

“Out of this word.” His grin could only be described as shit eating. 

Alex rolled his eyes and started walking again. But Michael caught the way Alex’s eyes had traveled down to his crotch just before he turned away. Definitely trying to gauge if it was true. 

_Point Guerin_ , Michael thought and started moving again too, feeling happier than he had in a while. It was of course just the fact that he had company after so many months alone.

There was comfort in walking through the apocalypse with someone. Even if it was with someone you’ve only known for about forty-eight hours. Honestly, Michael should know better. He had been betrayed enough before and after the apocalypse to know that trusting people lead to pain and heartache. And death. Let’s not forget death, which Michael kept reminding himself was the worst part.

Not the pain of betrayal when they leave you trapped behind a door, Infected licking at your heels, because there’s no time to find a way to unjam the door in time Michael, and you had stupidly helped her scale that high up window first. 

“Watch it.” Michael’s chest bumped into Alex’s outstretched hand, jolting him out of his memory. And he took a breath, his mind focusing on the warmth of Alex’s hand on his chest, feeling the cold fingers of anxiety lose their grip on him. Michael took in the scene around them. They had come up to a stretch of the road with a bunch of abandoned cars scattered about. They’d have to weave around the cars.  
  
“What?” Michael asked, looking around for Infected. There were none around the cars that he could see, though Michael could see through darkened store front windows, shadowy movement, slow and jerky. 

Fucking great.  
  
“Tripwire.” Alex pointed. It took Michael a moment to see the fine wire stretched out between a car and a lamppost, easily hidden by the grass that was growing through the cracks in the cement and the shadows cast by the buildings surrounding them.

Even better.  
  
“We’re still in their territory then,” Michael stated, glancing around again, looking for eyes he may have missed.  
  
“Or close to it,” Alex said. “Can’t believe they wouldn’t have cleared out the area entirely if they’re squatting here.” So Alex had noticed the Infected too. Michael wasn’t used to traveling with someone quite so competent. It was usually Michael with the sharp eyes and the plans. 

“Probably use these to keep the Infected out of their territory.”  
  
“Ok well I guess we’ll just have to be careful about where we step...” Michael began to move but Alex stopped him again.  
  
“I’ll go first,” he said, looking into Michael’s surprised eyes. “Unless sniffing out explosives is one of your superpowers.”  
  
Michael laughed a little. “Definitely not. But it’s not yours either.”  
  
“Not my first time around mines.” Right, combat vet. It hadn’t been just Michael sharing his past, Alex had opened up too. A little. However, they mostly talked about Michael’s alien origins. Alex was understandably curious, but Michael could tell that it was also a tactic to keep the subject off himself. 

Michael wasn’t the only one who was guarded. 

Still Michael now knew that Alex had a Purple Heart, three other siblings and was part Navajo but spoke very little Diné, which he regretted. 

“If you’re sure…?” Michael wasn’t. But he trusted Alex.... Alex’s incredible competence. 

It was nonetheless an incredibly stressful twenty minutes of walking over tripwires while simultaneously trying to stay out of sight of the Infected who would sometimes stagger out of stores, looking around frantically for something to eat. They always made these disturbing sounds, like they were in a state of constant pain and confusion. Not for the first time did Michael wonder if one’s mental faculties survived the infection. Were those people trapped inside their own mind, and aware of what the Cordyceps were making them do?  
  
There was movement in the corner of his eye and Michael jerked in that direction, anxious that they’d been seen.  
  
“ _Guerin_ ,” Alex hissed, grabbing his arm. He was glaring at him.  
  
“I thought--” It was a bird that had caught his attention. It flew off again when an Infected moaned in its direction, interested. Those things would eat anything.

“You have to be more careful.” Alex’s grip on Michael’s arm was like a vice. But he was looking at a wire, razor thin, scant centimeters away from Michael’s leg. It gleamed ominously in the afternoon light and Michael felt, irrationally so, that it was urging him to close the distance. 

Alex had the eyes of a fucking eagle. And now those sharp eyes were trained on the Infected Michael had seen before. It was shambling in their direction, though they hadn’t been made as of yet. It was male, dressed in sporting goods store fatigues, looking fairly fresh. His was a recent misfortune. 

They shimmed back slowly behind an SUV, staying out of sight until they couldn’t hear the frantic yelps and groans anymore. Then they kept moving, crouched low. Alex’s hand had slipped for Michael’s shoulder but not off him. 

Alex was holding his hand. Fingers twined up with Michael’s like they were a couple, leading him around abandoned cars, trip wires and Infected. At one point, while hiding again from hungry eyes, Alex glanced back at him and Michael had looked for anything patronizing in his gaze. But there wasn’t. Michael was relieved-- not about the lack of insult but because the minute you're not perceived as useful….

Michael forced such thoughts away. 

At that moment Alex, probably mistaking the reason for the anxiety on his face, had squeezed his hand comfortingly. The softness in those warm brown eyes, the determined set to his full lips. They were getting out of this, Alex’s expression was saying. Alex would get Michael out of this.  
  
Michael just nodded dumbly and hoped that there wasn’t a parade of stupid soppy emotions going across his face. Because he was a moron that could never learn from his previous mistakes apparently. 

* * *

“This place looks empty,” Michael said peering into an empty furniture store. “Maybe we should hunker down here for the night.”

Even though they were finally close to getting the fuck out of Albuquerque, the sun had started to set and moving through the night wasn’t safe. Also, something was wrong with Alex. He wasn’t saying anything but Michael could tell somehow. Probably because Michael was a desperate horny weirdo who keeps staring at Alex whenever he feels he can get away with it.

Alex couldn’t have been bitten. They had been really good at keeping out of sight when passing by Infected. And Michael was fairly sure that Alex wasn’t injured the last time they skirmished with the slavers. Alex, the serious badass he was, could take down multiple people effortlessly. On the other hand, Michael was surprised he hadn't gotten himself shot because he was too busy staring. 

“Yeah you’re right,” Alex sighed, and Michael was sure of it now. Alex was hurting.

“You stay here, watch the street,” Michael said and added hurriedly when Alex was about to go inside the store anyway. “I’ll check to see if it’s safe. Just watch the streets.” Four days together now and Alex still behaved like he was the one with the superpowers.

Michael didn’t allow himself to feel good about that. 

Alex nodded and Michael slipped inside. Thankfully the furniture store was empty. No Stalkers creeping behind couches, no bulbous, pustulating Bloaters, shambling about in the break room. Nothing trapped in the bathroom waiting for some fool (like him) to let it out. Michael checked everywhere. Twice. Nothing.

They settled down in the break room, out of sight of the big display windows in front. There was a coffee maker and a sink, a few chairs and a table. There was even a snack machine though it had been ransacked ages ago. Alex checked the cupboards for anything useful before sitting down in one of the chairs heavily. He rubbed his left leg briefly, only stopping when he noticed that Michael was watching.

“Are you hurt?” Michael asked. Best to be direct.

“No.” Alex said in a clipped tone.

“Look I get it. You don’t know me and there’s nothing I can say to make you trust me.” Even though Michael was starting to stupidly feel like he could trust Alex. “But if we’re going to be a team for the duration of this journey you’re going to have to start or I won’t be able to help you effectively.”

Michael dropped down in an empty chair and waited for Alex to make his decision. He took his damn sweet time making that decision, too. Michael wished there was something to keep his hands busy with while he waited. Something else to look at then the frown lines on Alex’s forehead.

“I’m not hurt.” Alex bent over and rolled up his pant leg, exposing the pylon of a prosthetic limb.

 _Oh_. 

“My leg’s just achy,” Alex continued, watching Michael carefully. “I haven’t taken this off in a couple of days which is never a good idea but—”

“People suck,” Michael acknowledged. He knew intimately what people were like when they perceived weakness. No further explanation needed. And the way Alex looked at him meant he knew Michael knew.

That didn’t mean the tension in Alex’s shoulders eased.

Nodding, Alex fiddled with his pant leg before starting to roll it down.

“I’ll stay out there tonight,” Michael offered quickly, pointing toward the showroom.

“Michael—”Alex began surprised.

“No it’s ok really,” Michael interrupted, grabbing his backpack. “Give that leg a rest. I’ll see you in the morning.” He smiled reassuringly at Alex. Saw the surprise shift to relief and then to careful, guarded, gratitude.

“Thank you.”

Michael wanted to lean over and kiss the worry off Alex’s brow. But instead, he just tipped his hat and walked out of the break room, closing the door behind him.

* * *

Michael was looking out the display window the next morning, eating a protein bar, and watching as the sun slowly crept above the buildings. There were Infected in the store across the street. He could see them now, shuffling through the aisles even from this distance. The only thing keeping them in there was a car blocking the doorway and a cracked display window.

Years ago the sight would have made Michael’s blood run cold, but now he was just wearily grateful that he and Alex hadn’t gotten too close to that store last night.

“You stayed,” Alex said as he stepped out of the breakroom. There was a soft sort of happiness to his tone that didn’t quite match up with the neutral expression on his face when Michael turned to look at him. Michael wondered if Alex had meant to say that at all. 

“Of course, didn't want to miss your bed head. ” Michael grinned. Alex snorted and ran a hand through his hair self consciously. “Feeling better?”

“Much better. Thanks.” Alex smiled at him, there were no sharp edges to it, and it reached his pretty eyes. Michael felt his heart quicken. But all he did was fish out another protein bar from his pack and throw it at Alex, who caught it easily.

“My roommate back in college was working with prosthetics,” Michael said as they headed out. “Used to listen to him talk about new designs. Kinda miss talking about engineering with someone. Can you tell me about your leg?”

“Oh. Sure,” Alex said surprised. Michael was pleased when Alex smiled again. Those smiles were rare and he’d never seen one so fond. Michael’s heart felt full in his chest. “I mean I can’t get too technical but sure.”

They walked out of Albuquerque that day, shoulders bumping a little, chatting amiably about prosthetics and the other biological enhancement research that was lost to the apocalypse.

Michael hadn’t felt this happy in a while.

* * *

“I was at Stanford when everything went to shit,” Michael explained as they moved quietly through the main street of one the many sleepy towns in between Albuquerque and Roswell. 

“Did you want to work for NASA?” Alex asked, eyes darting here and there. The town looked like a lot of towns Michael had passed through on his way to Roswell. Dark storefronts with broken windows and rotting doors. Asphalt cracked and ruptured as plant life reclaimed the roads. Vehicles littered everywhere, sitting where their terrified owners had abandoned them.

“That’s racist,” Michael laughed.

Alex snorted. “Oh please, I’ve known you for like two weeks and I already know you hated this planet even before everything went to shit. You wanted to build a spaceship and fuck off to Rigel V.”

Alex knew him just a little too well; Michael wished he could say the same about Alex. 

“Ten points to Slytherin,” Michael admitted, smiling mirthlessly. Alex laughed though and that made Michael happy. He was getting better at making Alex laugh at least. “Things have to be better out there right?”

“They have to be,” Alex agreed and his eyes had lingered on Michael for a moment too long. There was something in those eyes that Michael hesitated to call longing.

They’d been dancing around each other this whole time. Mostly because stopping for a fuck while being hunted by crazy slavers was poor time management. But it had given them a chance to feel each other out. And Michael had to say, he was starting to love Alex for more than his ass.

 _I should make a move already_ , Michael thought. They weren’t in constant peril anymore. Well, relatively speaking.

“We should look for supplies,” Alex suggested, stopping in the middle of the road. They hadn’t seen hide nor hair of a person or an Infected (not that that meant anything really), and they were running a little low on food, so Michael agreed. They moved towards what looked like a general store. Alex walked in front of him. As he always did. Even though Michael was the one that could throw things around with his brain, Alex was protective. Michael really liked that about him.

“So you were getting your masters in 2010?” Alex continued. “You were 20?”

“Yeah,” Michael replied.

“Are your siblings geniuses too?”

Michael flushed. Ok, it’s one thing to know you’re a genius. It’s another thing entirely when a hot guy calls you one. “Ah, I mean they’re smart. I don’t think it’s an alien thing if that’s what you’re asking.”

Alex shrugged and Michael asked, “And you? What college did you go to?”

This seemed like a perfect opportunity to learn a bit more about Alex, who had not been as forthcoming as Michael has been. Michael suspected that he’d been involved in some bad shit, probably before and after he got back stateside. That wasn’t reason enough for Michael to abandon him. Honestly, who hadn’t been forced to do some bad shit to survive this living nightmare they’re all stuck in?

“I didn’t,” Alex said, glancing back at him. Michael was now flushed with embarrassment, but Alex shook his head. “Didn’t even apply. I come from a military family. My dad’s in the air force. My brothers joined the armed forces too when they graduated high school...” Alex didn’t say it but Michael could read the _I knew what was expected of me_ in the tightness around Alex’s eyes and mouth. “I enlisted once I turned 18 and got back state side just in time for the zombie apocalypse.”

From one war zone to another.

“Were you deployed to ground zero?” Michael asked. Seattle had been the epicenter of the breakout in the US, spreading like wildfire the minute it touched down. The military had tried unsuccessfully to contain the outbreak, sending in personnel to keep the Infected from leaving the city limits. But all that did was provide the Cordycep virus with more victims. 

Alex shook his head. “Nah, ended up guarding a quarantine zone.” Alex’s expression was now one of distaste and he understood why. Michael had avoided quarantine zones because of the mandatory testing which would get him outed as non-human super-fast, and he was grateful for that. Otherwise, he might have let himself be shunted into one, and judging by the stories he’d heard from survivors he’s crossed paths with, that would have been a terrible place to end up.

At first it had been a smart idea. Round up all the healthy people. Protect them from the fungal disease that turned people into what were essentially zombies. It was supposed to be temporary while the government got the diseased under control. But the government had been ineffective in this too, and slowly but surely quarantine zones lost control. Some became tiny military states to keep control of the populace, in others there were coups which led to mad dictatorships. Either way, there was a whole lot of suffering.

“Infected,” Alex said before Michael could learn the details about the quarantine zone Alex was stationed at, which was a shame because Alex was finally opening up. 

Michael glanced into the general store’s display window and saw it. Once a woman, it was now more of a suggestion of one with its greyish skin and torn clothing, huddled over, twitching, and groaning, and pacing back and forth behind the register. Probably still in the runner stage, as Michael couldn’t see any stalks and her eyes still seemed intact. 

Then something more dangerous stumbled into view from around a shelf. A Clicker. Eyes gone now that the fungal gills had bloomed, most of the body covered in hard reddish-orange fungal plates. Also once a woman, it bent over, making those horrific clinking sounds they were named for, mouth gaping open grotesquely. It stumbled forward, ignoring the other Infected body in the room, clicking as it went, hooping the sound would bounce off someone it could eat.

Michael raised a hand, starting to focus his TK on the Clicker but Alex stopped him. His hands wrapped around Michael’s, warm but callused and strong. Michael let his hand be gently lowered. Alex had gorgeous hands. It was hard not to look at how they wrapped around his, always seeming to fit perfectly there. 

“I got this.” Alex winked. 

“You just want to show off,” Michael shot back as Alex moved swiftly towards the door of the general store.

“It’s what you’re supposed to do around someone you like,” Alex answered, grinning roguishly. And with that bomb casually dropped, Alex nudged the door open and slipped in quiet and nimble as a cat.

“Fucker,” Michael muttered. He wanted to make the first move.

Annoyed, Michael watched as Alex crept towards the Clicker, hiding behind shelves to keep away from its echolocation and from the mad eyes of the Infected by the register. Michael kept some of his attention on that Infected, ready to grab it with his TK if it noticed Alex. Honestly, this wasn’t the best idea. The Clicker and the other Infected were almost always in each other’s line of sight. But Alex didn’t seem concerned at all, stalking the Clicker like a panther and pouncing immediately when he got behind it. Grabbing it around the shoulders, Alex jammed his knife into the fungal gills before it could even screech. Alex dragged it to the ground quickly and quietly, eyes never straying from the Infected by the register.

Michael couldn’t even deny it. That was hot. He was absolutely hot for this cocky badass.

Alex had timed his attack perfectly, taking down the Clicker while the other Infected had turned away. None of Alex’s movements were wasted. And when the Infected turned toward him, it was almost like he expected her to see him approaching. No change in his movements or body language, no annoyance at being seen, no surprise. Just reaction. Dodge. Grab. Take down.

Alex was gorgeous to watch and Alex obviously knew that. That’s why he’d decided to show off. That’s why he turned back to look at Michael now with a smug little smirk on his face.

Alex’s expression though morphed into one of horror a moment later. “Mi—”

It was a little too late though. Even as Michael turned to look, the Stalker was already on top of him. It would be stupid to say it had come out of nowhere. That’s what they do. Sneak around. Quiet, calculating in an animalistic sort of way. Who knows how long it’d been tracking them from the shadows. Waiting. Who knew how many more of them were out there.

But Michael didn’t really have time to wonder about a pack. He had instinctively put his arms out in front of him when it had pounced, hands colliding with its face. Struggling to hold those gnashing teeth away. It was grunting and panting wildly, pushing forward with inhuman strength, trying to get Michael to the ground.

No matter how smart or skilled or careful you are, sometimes you just get caught off guard. You get stunned. Fear takes over in those instances and you just act out of desperation, instead of intelligence. Michael was there now. Focus narrowed down to that face. The fungal stalks growing out of its head and one eye socket, the milky color of its one intact eye, the weird orangey color of its skin and the patches of what looked like mold. Those broken yellow teeth in a mouth that seemed to stretch out wider and bigger than human physiology should allow. Michael’s world narrowed down to that mouth, that mouth that was getting closer. He needed to do something. _You fucking idiot_ _do something RIGHT FUCKING NOW!_

Michael felt hot sticky blood on his face, in his eyes and in his open screaming mouth. The stalker had stopped moving. Well stopped attacking. It was still twitching as it went limp against him. Michael jumped back, horrified. Confused. It fell to the ground, a giant hole in the center of his head.

Alex was standing behind him. Panting. Eyes huge. His rifle in his hands.

The street came alive with the screech of Infected.

“Did it? I think it…” Alex was horrified, dismayed, heedless of the warning knell of Infected. His eyes were trained on Michael’s hand. And sure enough, he’d been bit. There was a ring of teeth marks visible in the space between his thumb and forefinger. It didn’t hurt. Too much adrenaline. But it was bleeding. Honestly he was lucky that Alex hadn’t given it a chance to _rip_. 

“We have to go, Alex.” Michael reached for him and Alex flinched back. Fear and guilt flitting across his face, misery draining it of all color. 

_He’s going to leave you,_ Michael thought, hand dropping. He felt cold. 

The frantic howls of the Infected were deafening now. It was a good thing. A reminder that they did not have time for this. Michael grabbed Alex’s arm and immediately Alex tried to jerk himself free but Michael held on tight. Alex’s hand was on his sidearm now but this close up Michael could see the wet sheen in his eyes. He focused on that.

“I’m immune, Alex,” Michael yelled, desperate to get going. Alex just looked sad. “It’s ok,” he promised and slid his uninjured hand into Alex’s, twining their fingers together. Desperately, Michael started to tug him behind the storefront. “I’m not human, remember? I’m immune.” And once said, Michael turned his back on Alex, starting to run. 

Alex said something but Michael couldn’t hear it over the hungry cries of the Infected, over the pounding of their feet on cracked concrete. It didn’t matter anyway. Alex was keeping pace with him. But most importantly, he didn’t let go of Michael’s hand.

* * *

They found a small farm outside of town to hide in. The farmhouse was uncharacteristically small, which meant it didn’t take too long to confirm there was nothing there. Living or otherwise.

 _Thank fucking Christ_.

After securing the farmhouse, Alex had disappeared upstairs, saying something about looking for clean towels. Michael had just assumed Alex didn’t want to be in the same room with him. So he had putzed around downstairs, trying to keep his anxiety in check. It was not two hours ago that he thought…. Best not to think about that. 

In the living room, Michael dropped down into a green, ugly patterned armchair, causing dust to explode around him. He waved away the dust from his nose half-heartedly. He was bone tired. His whole body ached—not just his hand—from all the fighting, the running, the pure terror. Michael could fall asleep right there. Though he fought it, still scared that Alex would euthanize him…

“Oh shut up. You’re not afraid of him. You’re afraid of him leaving you,” Michael muttered angrily to himself. He slouched further in the chair, threw an arm over his eyes as if he could block out all the negative thoughts and feelings.

All this time, Michael had been so busy enjoying falling in love that he had stupidly forgotten that everyone always leaves.

Alex leaving would destroy him. “Guess if anyone’s gonna destroy me, only fitting it’s him,” Michael chuckles mirthlessly.

* * *

“I should look at your hand.”

Shit, he’d fallen asleep. Michael’s tired eyes cracked open, but he didn’t immediately look at Alex. Instead he found Alex’s rifle and backpack, which were leaning against the wall by the door.

Then he looked at Alex who was standing about a foot away from Michael. In his hands was an old hand towel and a bottle of rubbing alcohol. He must have found them in the bathroom.

Michael nodded, sitting up a little, while Alex dropped down on the coffee table in front of him. He looked just as tired as Michael felt, but there were added worry lines on his face. He took Michael’s injured hand gently in his hands, ran his thumb over Michael’s knuckles as he examined the wound. The act was soothing but Michael didn’t think it was him that was supposed to be soothed. 

“Have you been bitten before?” Alex asked.

Michael didn’t smile. “No.”

“Then how--?” All that fear and worry from earlier came back instantly. This time, Michael didn’t refrain from smoothing out the wrinkles across Alex’s forehead with his fingertips, cupping Alex’s cheek afterward. Alex, eyes still on Michael, relaxed just a little, leaned into the touch. Michael, still tense himself, took that as a good sign.

“I’ve never been sick,” Michael explained. “Not even a cold. But I didn’t know I was immune to _this_ disease until a few years ago, when I was rummaging for supplies in some old store. I guess the ground was rotted or something because it gave way under my feet. I fell into a basement covered in Spores. I thought that was it. Kept waiting for the pain, the craving for human flesh, the beat from _Thriller_ to star to start playing overhead but nothing happened.”

Probably not the best time to joke, but humor was armor, remember?

But Alex wasn’t laughing.

Michael held Alex’s eyes, hoping to convey that nothing he’d said was a lie. That he was, in fact, immune so _please stay_.

“Scared the shit out of me,” Alex finally said after what felt like eternity. Ok. Good. He believed it. _Thank fuck. Shit._

But even so, Michael only relaxed when Alex turned his face into his hand, nuzzling his palm with eyes closed. “All I could think was that I lost you,” Alex continued. “And that my stupid ass waited too long to kiss you.”

“That would have sucked.” Michael grinned. Then made a show of looking around the empty living room. “Maybe we shouldn’t chance it any long—”

Alex didn’t let him finish. Shut him up with a kiss that was tinged with desperate relief. Michael stroked Alex’s cheeks and gentled the kiss. He was ok, safe. They were safe. Alex sighed, shakily and completely relaxed, finally. Let Michael soothe all the worry away with the soft press of his lips.

“Just to confirm though,” Michael began pulling away. “You’re not gonna put me down old Yeller style behind the barn.”

“Fuck you.” Alex opened his eyes, glaring at Michael. It’s fair, Michael was being glib. “You are not even remotely funny,” Alex added hotly but he kissed him again, fingers gripping Michael’s hair tightly, climbing into his lap and kissing the breath from him.

**Author's Note:**

> Come over and say hi on tumblr. You can find me @ladynox


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